


Will's wood

by Moonstruckidiot



Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: A bit sad, AU, Hannibal Loves Will, Happy Ending, M/M, Supernatural Elements, Will Loves Hannibal, will of the woods
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-18
Updated: 2018-06-18
Packaged: 2019-05-25 00:19:10
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,722
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14965005
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Moonstruckidiot/pseuds/Moonstruckidiot
Summary: Will went missing years ago. Hannibal never gave up looking....“Hello Doctor Lecter.”Hannibal never thought he’d hear those words again yet they ring out so clear in the stillness of the wood. It takes him more than a moment to find his own words.“Hello Will,” he says. Tears threaten, he blinks them away.“It took you a while to find me,” says Will.





	Will's wood

**Author's Note:**

> No beta
> 
> for the will of the wood challenge

At night woods are places of myth and magic where unicorns roam and trees talk to those who are willing to listen. When the roads are quiet and the moon is full and silvery bright serial killers bury their victims in places so secluded there is nothing to do for the dead but to rest.

Soil, twigs and dried up old leaves run through the fingers of Hannibal Lecter, he takes in a breath and closes his eyes. This is the spot, he thinks, it’s perfect.  He himself couldn’t have found a better place.

Kneeling in the dirt he bows his head, brings his hands together and prays. It may seem hypocritical for a man like him to appeal to God but tonight, with the stars blinking down mercifully on him, may be just may be someone is listening.

When he finishes his prayer he sinks further back onto his heels. He feels an overwhelming relief to be here, amongst the dirt and the dark, his mind finds peace in the noise of the woodland creatures. Will would have liked it here he’s certain of that.

A shiver runs down Hannibal’s spine. Someone, as the old saying goes, has walked over his grave. ‘Will,’ he whispers into the cold night air.  He stays in his position and doesn’t move, there is no one there he says to himself and he’s far too old and far too murderous for that kind of wishful thinking. He can’t shake the need though, the need to look so he rises slowly and turns even slower.

His breath catches.  

“Hello Doctor Lecter.”

Hannibal never thought he’d hear those words again yet they ring out so clear in the stillness of the wood. It takes him more than a moment to find his own words.

“Hello Will,” he says. Tears threaten, he blinks them away.  

“It took you a while to find me,” says Will.

Will is standing amongst the trees, a blue plaid shirt, hair a little overgrown and a soft smile that reminds Hannibal of the nights when they would share a glass of wine.

Hannibal wonders if he fell asleep while kneeling and this is just a dream.

“You  were hard to find,” replies Hannibal. He takes a step forward, then stops. He’s seized by a terror of breaking this moment, whatever this moment is, however it came to be.

“You look well,” says Will. Hannibal huffs. His hair is dirty, he hasn’t shaved for days and his clothes are stained with mud, but Will thinks he looks good, of course he would.

“It’s good to see you too Will.”

“I saw you and Jack looking,” says Will. “You were in all the wrong places.”

“Yes,” nods Hannibal. He can’t think of anything else to say in reply only that they had gotten it so wrong but that did not need to be said.

Instead he asks, “Will you come with me to my camp site, it’s not very far.” To his everlasting relief Will agrees.

Hannibal leads the way. It’s a twenty minute walk, through thick tree coverage, to the camp, every few minutes he turns his head to check and every time Will smiles back.

Hannibal has set up camp by a small lake, his tent is pitched close to an old log cabin that is too unsafe to sleep in. He bought the land, acres and acres of it, a few days prior.

The first thing Hannibal does when they get to the camp is to light the fire he had built earlier in the day. He then walks over to the table, set close to the tent, and pulls out a chair, he beckons Will to sit and starts to unpack his cool bag.

“How very like and unlike you,” says Will as Hannibal sets down two china plates.

“Admittedly I am not a stereotypical outdoors man, but when needs must I can survive with very little. However,” says Hannibal as he places a wine glass next to Will, “I prefer my comforts when I can.”

Next on the table are bowls of vegetables, meat and potatoes.

Will’s fingers reach out towards the bowl of meat, “You do know I cant eat this don’t you,” he says.

“Yes I know, but as a host I would be remiss if I made no effort to include you.”

“I presume the meat is of your favourite kind.”

“Indeed,” Hannibal says as he catches Will’s eyes he finds no censure there.

There is a pressing issue scratching its way out of Hannibal’s throat, but it doesn’t seem quite right to raise it whilst he eats his locally sourced meat. So instead they sit in comfortable silence, two old friends just pleased to be in each other company.

Once Hannibal has eaten enough and the dishes have been cleared away he throws some kindling onto the fire. Will comes to stand by his side.

“I’m sorry,” says Hannibal.

“There is nothing you could have done.” A light touch to his arm catches Hannibal unawares, he cant help the shudder which courses through him. He knows it’s not possible, as impossible as Will standing next to him is, but he is.

“Jack and I never gave up,” says Hannibal as he turns towards Will. “He left his job to chase down every lead but there was nothing, nothing for years.”

“You found him though.”

“Yes and before the FBI but he wouldn’t tell me where you were.”

“You tortured him."

“Extensively,” says Hannibal a grim smile on his face.

“Good,” replies Will.

“In the end I had to promise him I’d take care of you.”

“He thought he was doing people like me a favour, I wasn’t happy in this world so he found me somewhere I’d be happy in the next one, or so he believed.”

“ I came to lay all your bones to rest.”

“All my bones, even the one he took.”

“Yes,” says Hannibal, “even that one.” A tear spills over his lid, he watches as Will tracks its route down his cheek.

“I’m not sure I want to be laid to rest just yet,” says Will as he reaches out to take Hannibal’s hand.

Hannibal can’t take his eyes off their interlinked hands. They look solid but he feels nothing but a chill to his palm.

“I may be a ghost but I am real.”

“I cant imagine what it has been like.”

“Thankfully I remember little of my death but since I,” Will pauses searching for the right words, “became aware again...I have never felt so lonely. Every night I am pulled back to my grave and every morning I find myself miles away from here.”

Hannibal listens, he has so many questions but he will let Will tell his story in his own time.

“There’s an old mine thirty miles from here, you searched there I think.”

“Yes. Jack and I did,” says Hannibal. They had found nothing there. No physical evidence and no psychical imprint in the space where Will probably breathed his last moments.

“I watched you, I tried to communicate but I couldn’t.” Will’s voice is low, sad. The memory still, for lack of a better word, haunts Will.

Another time, another place Hannibal would have reach out to reassure Will, a light touch to his arm or his shoulder but this time he doesn’t. He’s not sure how his rational mind would make sense of his hand finding nothing but air. He’s still not convinced that Will is real in any true sense of the word.

“My ability to maintain any tangible presence in the living world is fleeting,” Will says, even in death his gift for empathy remains. “It has improved over time and with practice it might improve more.”

“That would be good,” says Hannibal.

Normally the trauma of victimhood is tantalising to Hannibal, like a worm he burrows into soft flesh causing decay and where there is potential, rebirth. He is therefore surprised to find himself desiring a shift in conversation to something lighter.

“Tell me Will, have you found anything enjoyable about your new experience. You have always been extremely adaptable.”

Will grins and he too seems to appreciate a change in conversation. There are, he says, some perks to being dead. He talks of how he can wander far and wide during the day. It's so much easier to hitchhike when no one can see you. He regales Hannibal with the conversations he’s overheard, from the unbelievably amusing to the down right chilling. He’s ridden with one or two serial killers too, although none, he assures Hannibal, are as charming or handsome as he.

Hannibal loses track of time staring into the fire and just listening to Will talk.

“It’s about time you went to bed.”

It’s only when Hannibal jerks awake that he realises he’s asleep on his feet. He mumbles something about being OK he just needs some coffee but Will wont hear of it. _What if I never see you again_ , Hannibal wants to say, but doesn’t.

After he has washed, brushed his teeth and put on something more comfortable Hannibal finds Will sitting on the edge of his camp bed.

“Can I lie down with you,” Will asks.

“Of course,” replies Hannibal.

Being the first into the bed Hannibal feels a slight chill along the length of his body as Will snuggles down next to him.

“Don’t you wish we’d done this before,” asks Will.

“Yes, I’d be lying if I said I’d never thought about it.”

“Better late than never.”

“Yes,” replies Hannibal, he appreciates the humour even as he rubs his nose into hair that smells and feels of nothing.

Hannibal places his arm over Will's waist. If he closes his eyes it's like Will isn’t there at all. Even as his lids grow heavy he fights to keep them open.

“Close your eyes Hannibal, you must sleep.”

“Talk to me.” So I know you are there.

 

In the morning Hannibal wakes alone. He hurriedly dresses, grabs a bread roll and drives to the mine.  He doesn’t, not even for one moment, doubt that the previous evening was real.

Will is there waiting as he said he would be.

“Going my way?” Will asks as he materialises into the passenger seat.

“Always,” replies Hannibal.


End file.
